One woman's journey from living room to law school with one husband and three kids in tow.

Monday, August 14, 2006

Transitions

I am so bummed. My friend J. is moving to Maryland. Actually, she should have moved two years ago to San Diego but she didn't. Instead, she stayed here - with her children - and finished law school. We met during first year; we were in the same section. She's indecisive, obsessive and extroverted so we hit it off immediately! She had just moved to Colorado after being in England for four years and California a few years before that. She's a native New Yorker but you couldn't tell just by talking to her She's also the one who taught me to knit.

She's moved around a bit more than most people and it has given her a rather worldy perspective. Working for the NSA helped reinforce her natural distrust of people. Still, I love her. She's funny and honest and incredibly motivated. Wait - I think I might actually have a bit of a "girl crush" on her.

J. is a Navy wife and one of those "I will not let my spouse dictate the direction of my life" kind of women. I definitely admire her tenacity. She raised her two girls, attended law school full-time, interned, did the requisite social and professional events and landed a great part-time-with-benefits clerking gig with an appellate court judge. Definitely no easy feat. But, she set high goals for herself and she achieved them all. Oh, and her girls are nationally ranked fencers and solid B students.

I am happy for her because she desperately misses the East coast. Colorado was never really home for her. Not enough rain or verdant beauty here for her taste. Too much suburbia and too little diversity. All things Maryland has in spades. Her spouse has already found (and contracted to buy) a fabulous row house for their family.

Still, I will miss our early morning chats and yarn store runs. Or the quick calls to each other to grouse about our respective spouses and/or children. So, raise a glass for J. - a true friend, a scrapper and one hell of woman.